


west towards the sun

by tte



Series: cardinal directions [1]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Coming Out, First Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 07:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13566042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tte/pseuds/tte
Summary: It happened then, like a scene from the most cliché of romantic comedies, something Nathan hardly believed could occur in real life, if it hadn't, in fact, happened to him. Maybe it was something about the light filtering through the leaves of the tree. Maybe it was the ladybug that buzzed by, there one moment and gone the next. Later he would spend hours analyzing every detail of the moment, reframing the scene a little differently each time, but he would never figure out what exactly it was about the moment that had made itthemoment.





	west towards the sun

**Author's Note:**

> Some license has been taken with locations and scheduling.

_February 2018_

Silver weighed heavily on Nathan's chest. He looked at the crowd around them, at the flags rising solemnly into the night sky, at Yuzuru - radiant; still, at the end of the day, unreachable - at Shoma on the lower step, an unreadable expression on his face; back at the flags. He tried to summon up pride in what he'd accomplished - and he _had_ accomplished so much, more than what most people his age would ever do.

It was there, that pride, buried deep inside him when he looked up at the Stars and Stripes. But in that moment, all he felt was disappointment.

\---

Nathan had never thought very deeply about what he would do after Pyeongchang. There were the goals he had always had - he wanted to go to college, he wanted to go to med school. He wanted a life outside of skating, and that desire had never changed. But in the daily grind of practice, the flurry of preparation for the Olympics, it had been easy to push that decision back until after the issue at hand. Step by step, meticulous. That was how he always worked.

In the end, he didn't even need to deliberate. He stepped off the ice after his free program into Raf's quick embrace, and without realizing it, he'd already decided he would continue skating. A season, two seasons, maybe even four more - but he wasn't ready to end it here, not yet.

\---

_June 2018_

Two months after Milan - after the alchemy of Nathan's disappointment transformed Olympic silver into World gold, after the exhausting media whirlwind of the Stars on Ice tour, after he'd begun tracing out the beginnings of his new programs, when things finally began settling back into a familiar rhythm - Rafael and several other coaches held a weeklong training camp at Lakewood. It was the first time the team had organized something of this scale, and they were anticipating quite a few international skaters. Nathan glanced at the list once and was pleased to see Mai and Kaori making the trip from Japan, faintly surprised that Shoma was coming too. The thought soon slid from his mind like water from an umbrella as he hoisted his duffel and headed home after another day at the rink.

\---

Mai and Kaori and Shoma came from Japan, Nam from NorCal, Roman from Toronto, several juniors. The talents of the new generation converged on Nathan's home rink, and everyone got down to work. It was the beginning of a new Olympic cycle, a fresh start, a blank slate. After grueling but productive days at the rink and in the gym, they would hang out around town and at the beach, Nathan playing tour guide for his raucous group of friends.

Being the only ones with multiple quads in their group, the younger skaters tried to persuade Shoma and Nathan into joining their jump contests, even as their coaches glared at them and yelled at them to rein it in. Nathan and Shoma usually brushed off the dares - at 19 and 20, they were too old for these games, they didn’t want to get injured - but sometimes Nathan would catch Shoma's sly grin, and off they'd go, showing off to the hoots of their practice mates.

Nathan tried to help Shoma with his lutz edge, Shoma tried to help Nathan with his axel. Neither of them got very far, usually ending up flat on their backs on the ice.

"This is hopeless," Nathan laughed. "My axel just sucks, I've learned to live with it."

"Trade triple axel for quad lutz," Shoma replied with a smile, hair covered with a dusting of ice.

"Hell no, you know what the base values are."

The days passed quickly and Nathan and Shoma settled into an easy new friendship. They'd competed against each other for a long time, but until now had never had the chance to spend much time together. Shoma had always seemed quiet and shy, but Nathan soon discovered that there was more to his personality than first met the eye. He was glad to train alongside someone of his level, someone who understood how it felt to be at the top of their sport.

\---

On the fifth day of the training camp, after a hard day of practice, six of them went to the park and got ice cream. It was a beautiful summer evening, sun shining low in the sky, wispy clouds changing shape as they floated past.

It happened then, like a scene from the most cliché of romantic comedies, something Nathan hardly believed could occur in real life, if it hadn't, in fact, happened to him. Maybe it was something about the light filtering through the leaves of the tree. Maybe it was the ladybug that buzzed by, there one moment and gone the next. Later he would spend hours analyzing every detail of the moment, reframing the scene a little differently each time, but he would never figure out what exactly it was about the moment that had made it _the_ moment.

The bare facts of it were these: Nathan made a joke, and Shoma laughed. His eyes crinkled, the corners of his lips drew upwards, and he laughed, casual, carefree. There was a tiny spot of vanilla ice cream on the tip of his nose. And Nathan was seized with the overwhelming, undeniable urge to gently wipe that spot from Shoma's nose with his thumb. The force of it was so strong, so unexpected, it froze him in place as the conversation drifted on around him, as Nathan smiled awkwardly and stared at the grain of the wooden picnic table in a daze, simultaneously unable to look at Shoma and yet wanting nothing else.

The group parted ways half an hour later, sunset casting reddish hues over their faces, and Nathan ambled home on foot, so deep in thought he barely registered his surroundings.

Later, he would admit that at that time, he'd already known. He'd known from the moment Shoma's face broke into that high, carefree laugh. But that evening, his mind was a hurricane of questions, what ifs and buts, endless hypotheses and _maybe I suddenly developed a compulsion to clean things? Well, Mom would be happy about that._

To others, Nathan seemed preternaturally good at dealing with the unexpected, a skill that served him well as an elite athlete. A serious injury in a gala, ending his season with a hip surgery? Rehab, return to training, throw in a couple new quads while you're at it. Missed a jump in competition? Nathan had five different layouts as backup. But the truth was that nothing _truly_ unexpected had ever happened to him up to that point. Like most athletes and students, his life was regimented, disciplined. Injuries and mistakes were a fact of life, something to be endured and overcome. He trusted in the process of his training and study. He had backup plans for backup plans, he set his goals and he worked until he achieved them.

Nothing like the moment in the park had ever happened to him before. He had no idea how to react, what to do next, whether it was necessary to do anything at all.

And he had really, honestly never considered that he might be anything other than straight. Since dating Amber, he'd just assumed that he was. He'd grown up among all kinds of different people, met all kinds of people through skating. It wasn't his background that held him back. He'd simply never thought seriously about his sexuality before. There had never been a need.

Calling out an absent-minded "I'm home" as he took off his shoes and closed the front door of his family's house, Nathan headed straight to his room, lost inside himself.

\---

Nathan decided, after a night of sleep had somewhat freshened his mind, that he needed more data. One moment wasn't enough to judge anything. He would go to training, surreptitiously observe Shoma, and gauge his own reactions.

It was already the sixth day of the seven-day camp, and the boys were working on jumps today. Nathan grinned a little to himself when he remembered the schedule. There was no point denying that he loved jumping, and that he was damn good at it. He loved everything else about skating, too, and privately rolled his eyes at the questions about whether he was "improving his artistry" - of course he was working on PCS, why wouldn't he? - but there was nothing quite like the satisfaction of snapping into a quad and flying.

Shoma wasn't at the rink when Nathan arrived, so Nathan tried to put him out of mind and began warming up. An hour sped by, Shoma finally showed up - Nathan carefully noted him from the corner of his eye - he set up for the quad flip, picked in, landed, perfect.

The whoops from the other skaters were louder than he expected, and it was only then that he realized that he and Shoma had jumped at the exact same time.

"Got a video!" Nam yelled. "This is going on Instagram. _New pair team Uno/Chen headed your way #quadflip #sick_ "

Nathan looked at Shoma. Shoma smiled, embarrassed but pleased. Nathan's stomach did a strange little dance. He looked away.

\---

Shoma would stay at Lakewood for an extra two days before heading to Chicago for a week with Alex Ouriashev, then back to Japan for ice shows. After the excitement and hubbub of the training camp, the rink felt strangely empty with only the usual suspects in it, plus one. That _one_ made all the difference for Nathan.

It was becoming increasingly difficult for Nathan to ignore Shoma's presence, difficult to focus. He thought sometimes that he couldn't wait for Shoma to leave, so he could finally get a grip on himself, but at the same time he couldn't let Shoma leave without first doing - something. He didn't know what.

_I can't believe this is happening to me._

If he'd had a crush on a girl in school or at the rink, he probably would have talked to her by now, said something, asked her out. But Nathan wasn't naive enough to think it would be the same with Shoma, and it wasn't just because of his gender. Cultural differences weighed on his mind, language barriers, their position in the sport. The fact that they lived on opposite sides of an ocean.

He analyzed every interaction with Shoma, every interaction with other boys that might have indicated something he never realized. He'd noticed Shoma was attractive, in the vague way he noticed it with everyone, but until now Nathan hadn't been attracted _to_ him.

Was it simply lust, then? For a while Nathan thought that was probably it. Shoma was good-looking and Nathan's hormones, newly awakened to members of the same sex, had decided to fixate on him. Yes. That was all. Except it wasn't, he thought in frustration. There was no point lying to himself.

\---

On Shoma's last day in Lakewood, they packed up their skates after practice and headed out into the warm summer evening.

"Nathan?"

"Hm?" Nathan, lost in thought, was surprised to hear Shoma's voice.

"Can we go to the beach?"

"What? Oh. Sure." The request caught Nathan completely off guard. "Why do you want to go to the beach?" They'd gone with the others plenty of times before.

Shoma looked embarrassed. "Last day. I like it." He tilted his head to the side as he tried to summon the words. It was one of those habits that Nathan couldn't help noticing, now. "Last year...Dreams on Ice. You said you can show me the beach."

It had been a casual comment during an interview set up by their agents. _Hit me up when you're in California._ Nathan hadn't actually expected Shoma to ever come to California. The butterflies in his stomach were doing double rounds of calisthenics as Nathan realized that Shoma remembered what he'd said a year ago. And that he wanted to go to the beach, _with Nathan_.

"Yeah, of course. Let's go."

\---

They walked barefoot in the sand, stained pink by the sunset. Families strolled past, locals walking their dogs, couples arm in arm. Here and there, two girls or two boys sitting in the sand, watching the light on the water, heads leaning on shoulders.

For Shoma, the silence between him and Nathan was companionable. He'd enjoyed his time in Lakewood, enjoyed training with the others and getting to know Nathan a bit better. There was a sense of ease about this town. He wasn't an outdoors person at all - his usual idea of leisure was flopping into bed and playing games on his phone until he fell asleep - but for his last day in Lakewood, he wanted to see the beach again.

Closer to the water, the wind whipped his hair around his face, and Shoma held his hair back from his forehead. Some water splashed onto his cheek from the waves and dripped down his chin. The sunset was dazzling, a million different shades of red reflected in the water.

"Want to sit down?"

Shoma followed Nathan to a spot a little farther up the beach. They sat quietly, side-by-side, and Shoma suddenly realized he would miss training with Nathan. He wasn't sure when they would meet again.

"Are you coming to Japan? For shows?"

"I've been invited to _The Ice_. I'm pretty excited, it'll be my first time there."

"Oh! Me too." Shoma was pleased. _The Ice_ was his favorite show; it was Mao's, and he'd performed in it since he was a little kid.

"Your first time too?"

Shoma laughed. "No, no, I skate there all the time. This year too." He looked at Nathan. "I'll see you there."

The look in Nathan's eyes, then, surprised him - tenderness, hope? So quietly that Shoma could barely hear him, Nathan said, "There's some sand on your face," and he brushed it from Shoma's cheek with his thumb.

Shoma would always remember that friction, the feeling of those tiny, gritty pieces of quartz falling away, the fleeting contact of Nathan's finger. He could see everything laid out before him: Any moment now, Nathan's expression would turn from wonder and hope to embarrassment and fear, he would look down, mumble an apology, shut himself away. There was nothing Shoma wanted more in that moment than to preserve the tenderness in Nathan's eyes, freeze-frame that one split second and stretch it out forever - he would do anything, everything to make it so.

Before Nathan could say another word or react in any way, Shoma took Nathan's left hand in his right, linking their fingers together.

They gazed west, towards the sun and Shoma's home, saying nothing more - but they didn't let go, their entwined hands and _I'll see you there_ becoming a promise for the future.

\---

Shoma had some thinking to do of his own, but in some ways it was easier for him, because he already knew Nathan reciprocated - whatever this was.

He had never been in a relationship with anyone before. A couple of dates with girls, here and there, nothing ever developing beyond that. He didn't mind. Skating was his only love, his constant companion; he couldn't remember a time when he didn't skate. He never felt as alive as he did gliding across the ice, with music or without. His friends joked that he was a different person when he was on the ice, and sometimes he wondered which part of him was more real, the on-ice part or the off-ice part. These were idle thoughts which never demanded any conclusions. The simple fact remained that his only desire was to skate for as long as he physically could.

Until the moment with Nathan on the beach.

Shoma mulled over it in training, at meals, in bed as he waited for sleep to come. Deep down, he'd sometimes wondered if his disinterest in girls meant something else, or if he was simply disinterested in relationships altogether. Now it seemed like the latter case was false.

He replayed the feeling of the sand falling from his face again and again, that overwhelming desire he'd had for Nathan to stay with him and not shut himself away. There was no point denying Nathan's interest in him - he wasn't stupid, he could see what Nathan's actions meant. The only questions that remained, then, was how Shoma chose to react, and what they would do next when they saw each other again in July.

He blushed in the dark as he remembered glancing at Nathan in the locker room at competitions. It hadn't meant anything, back then; everyone was naked in the locker room. But now unfamiliar new feelings were flickering at the edges of Shoma's mind, the desire to see more, the desire to touch.

Shoma started counting down the days.

\---

_July 2018_

Nathan saw Shoma at the first group practice in Osaka, and Shoma's quick smile seemed to confirm everything he'd felt, that last day at the beach.

_Oh, god. I didn't imagine everything._

There wasn't much you could do to misinterpret holding hands for that long, watching the sunset together, but Nathan's mind had tried, anyway. He still couldn't believe that he had actually reached out, couldn't believe that Shoma had done the same in return.

And now he was here in Japan, and the invisible string joining them together wound tighter with each passing hour. He could feel it, the gravity well they were spinning into, the inevitability of the oncoming collision.

 _The Ice_ had a great cast that year; Mirai was there, Adam was there, always ready with a joke and a friendly grin. Nathan went to a fan meeting, forever overwhelmed by their level of support, went shopping, and ate his fill of food he couldn't find anywhere else in the world. Throughout it all, the constant tug and pull of Shoma's presence, side glances in his peripheral vision, light brushes as they passed each other in the halls.

\---

"Nathan." Shoma's voice was quiet, but seemed to ring out loudly in the empty locker room.

"What is it?" Nathan paused on his way out the door. He had just finished performing; Shoma would be up soon.

Shoma gestured at the zipper on the back of his costume, which seemed to be stuck.

"Oh...yeah, here, let me..."

Nathan gingerly fought with the zipper, trying to untangle it from the delicate fabric of Shoma's costume. As he finally succeeded, his fingers brushed the bare skin of Shoma's back.

Time froze. When it came back, when the universe started running again, everything seemed to happen very, very slowly.

Nathan traced a finger down the arch of Shoma's back, waiting for Shoma to pull away, to say _no_. Shoma didn't pull away. He was trembling, but stood where he was. When Nathan replaced his finger with his lips, breathing in the warm scent of Shoma's skin, the small noise that Shoma made stabbed him straight through the heart.

Sounds outside, people on their way. Time returned to normal. They broke apart, flushed and breathless.

"I have to go," Shoma said, pulling up the unstuck zipper, already hurrying away. Nathan didn't reply, unable to speak.

\---

They didn't look at each other for the rest of the show, for the rest of the night. It wasn't that they didn't want to, it was that there would be no hope of concealing anything from the others if their eyes met.

They rode up the hotel elevator together, still looking anywhere but into each other's faces. They would not be getting off at separate floors. Only in the safety of Nathan's room did the tension finally snap.

It was inelegant, their first time, but they wanted each other badly enough that the lack of finesse didn't matter. They marveled at the newness of it, shared slow kisses in the shower and mapped each other's bodies with their lips and fingertips.

For the rest of the show tour, and later, at every competition they shared, they would discover new things about each other - that Shoma was ticklish, the sweet spot on the inside of Nathan's thigh above his pulse point, how much Shoma loved Nathan's hair, how much Nathan loved Shoma's hands.

They also learned other tricks, necessary ones to keep attention at bay. After the tension had finally broken, they could share a practice and train normally; they learned that never interacting in public was as bad as interacting too much. They became each other's secret, a glowing ember that kept them warm when they were apart.

\---

_March 2019_

In March, Shoma won his first World title, and Nathan was by his side as the _Hinomaru_ rose over the Japanese audience. Nathan watched Shoma watch his country's flag, and if Shoma's eyes were shining more than could be explained by simple joy, nothing else about his face gave away his tears.

They were kissing before the door to Shoma's hotel room had even completely shut, Nathan pressing Shoma against the wall, drinking in every noise Shoma made, hands roaming under his shirt and pulling the fabric away.

"Nathan," Shoma finally gasped, hands cupped around Nathan's face, pushing him back for a moment.

"Yeah?"

Shoma's eyelids flickered as he blinked rapidly twice, suddenly shy. "I. Um."

Nathan kissed his nose gently in comfort, though he was now confused as well. "What is it?"

Shoma flushed, but there was determination in his face. "I want you to fuck me." He swallowed, but held Nathan's gaze. "If...if you want to."

Nathan was blushing now too, and insanely aroused, but wait, wait, they had to talk this out, _oh god what do I say, I haven't done this before._

"Yeah, I mean. I." He took a breath to calm himself. "I haven't done...that before, with a boy, so I just, I don't want to hurt you."

Shoma ran one hand through Nathan's hair, the way he knew Nathan loved it. "New for me too." His smile was still shy, but there was now a hint of coyness in it. He paused to consider his words, English still coming to him like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that had to consciously be fitted into place. "I prepared. So we can try, if you want. But it's ok, if you don't want it."

Nathan swallowed, and as he had done so many times with Shoma before, he took the plunge. "Yes. Yes, I do." Everything with Shoma was new, an experiment, and even if they made mistakes, at least they were doing it together.

\---

It wasn't great, but it wasn't so bad, either, Nathan decided after. He was used to getting things right almost immediately, but he wasn't so arrogant to think that sex would be one of them. More important was the contentment, the feeling of trust, as Nathan mumbled drowsily into Shoma's shoulder that they would try again someday, while Shoma nodded and kissed the top of his head.

"Don't underestimate me, next time you'll be yelling my name so loud, the neighbors will _hate_ us."

Shoma laughed. If he didn't know what _underestimate_ meant, he got the gist of the comment anyway. "Promise me."

"Is that a challenge? Well, I promise. There's never a challenge I haven't met."

Nathan kept his promises.

\---

_October 2019_

But as it turned out, Nathan couldn't keep all the promises he never made.

Sophomore year hit him like a freight train. Lulled by the relative success he'd had in handling training, competing, and a full load of coursework the year before, he figured he'd be on track to graduate in four years like everyone else, and signed up for advanced classes in the fall semester. That was a mistake.

His grades dropped, not to the point that they were unsalvageable, but enough that he had to labor to pull them back up; he wasn't getting enough sleep, his skating began to suffer. He even lost his temper at practice one day and snapped back at Raf - something he had never done in the eight years that Nathan had been his student.

"Nathan," Raf said, fed up, "stop shitting yourself and figure it out. You know what I'm talking about."

The question that hadn't needed consideration after Pyeongchang - skating or college? - had returned to haunt him. Nathan sat in his apartment (he'd moved into his own place the previous year; with scholarships and Olympic endorsements, he could afford it now) and stared dully at his linear algebra textbook, equations swimming across his vision, angry at everyone and everything, but mostly at himself.

He wasn't going to quit when the Grand Prix Series had just begun. No, the logical thing to do would be to drop some classes, finish the season, and then go from there. He was disproportionately angry with himself for thinking he could do everything at once, thinking he could have it all, when the truth was that he barely had any time to hang out with friends because his schedule was filled every hour of the day.

And he did still want to compete. Right? Olympic gold - it had been within his reach at Pyeongchang, and he'd let it slip through his fingers. However much he told himself he'd still enjoyed the competition and the experience of the Olympics, that seed of bitterness had never been completely uprooted.

 _You have an Olympic silver, a World title, every other title in the sport. You've skated for almost your entire life. That's enough, isn't it,_ a voice whispered in the back of his mind.

Nathan stood up so fast that he knocked his chair over. He was going to go out, he decided, and he was going to get very drunk.

\---

So that was how Nathan found himself in the warehouse with thumping music and strobe lights and bodies writhing against each other on the sticky floor, that was how he found the girl who smelled like vodka, who grabbed him and taught him how to dance properly - not that anyone could tell, in their inebriated states - that was how he found himself tasting her lipstick in the back of a taxi, and kissing her in other areas entirely in the darkness of her bedroom.

She smelled nothing like Shoma, felt nothing like Shoma, and a shard of disconcertment cut through the haze of Nathan's mind as he realized this, but then she climbed on top of him and he stopped thinking about anything much at all.

The haze didn't last, as he'd known it wouldn't. 5:37AM found him dragging a hand down his face, trying to quell the pounding in his head, the girl - _shit, what was her name?_ \- curled next to him but about to wake any moment now from his movement.

He got out of her bed, looking for his clothes, and she said, "Leaving?"

That was pretty obvious. "Yeah. Uh, about last night..."

She laughed. "Don't worry about it. You've never done this before, have you." It wasn't a question.

Nathan finally turned to look at her, mostly dressed now. He was mildly irritated that she seemed to think he was a virgin; he hadn't been _that_ bad, had he? Although, truth be told, he had hardly any recollection of the sex last night, except that it had probably been okay.

She was lounging against the pillows and waved an arm vaguely. "Nah, I meant, never went to a party like that, never had a one-night stand. 'Cause I can tell we're not doing this again. You with someone?"

Nathan thought of Shoma, on the other side of the world. It would be night in Japan by now. Maybe Shoma would call him, maybe not. All of a sudden, there was a stone in his chest, cold and heavy against his heart.

He made sure his wallet was still in his pocket and turned to leave. "Yeah. I'm with someone."

"That's a pity. Well, good luck." Her voice behind him sounded kind.

Nathan glanced around her kitchen on his way out. _Serena Ling_ , proclaimed her student ID card, sitting on the kitchen counter next to the microwave. At least he knew her name now.

\---

Shoma didn't call him that morning, and Nathan sighed with relief. He texted Raf and said he was coming down with a cold and wouldn't be able to make practice that day. The first thing he did after returning home was to turn on the cold water in the shower and step in, alcohol-stained clothes and all.

The cold hit him like a physical punch, dispelling the rest of last night's booze, and Nathan's brain was completely, unfortunately clear. He rested his forehead against the wall.

_Fucking dumbass. Went out to escape one problem and came back with another._

Because now all he could think about was Shoma, Shoma's eyes, Shoma's smile, Shoma's voice, Shoma flying down the ice like he was the only person on it, Shoma on the podium above him and below him but always beside him, the first time they held hands, the first time they kissed.

Nathan clenched his fists and resisted the urge to punch the wall. He understood then that he had another reason to keep competing besides his dream of Olympic gold. He also understood, with a sudden, sharp fear, that he would have to tell Shoma what happened, and whatever happened next would change the relationship that they had never discussed.

\---

He'd never consciously noted it, but Shoma's heart beat quicker every time he heard Nathan's ringtone on his phone. He'd long ago gotten over listening to the _Your Name_ soundtrack 24/7, but he was still fond of it, and he set one of his favorite songs for Nathan, only slightly embarrassed at the sentimentality.

Nathan's face popped up on his phone screen. He was sitting at his desk in his room, so probably using his laptop. His posture seemed oddly formal, but Shoma smiled anyway. "Hi."

"Hi." Nathan paused, looking into the distance, uncertain. Shoma's smile faded. "I'm...not really sure how to say this, but I think I need to tell you the truth. I slept with a girl a couple of nights ago. Just once. I was at a party, and drunk, and it just...happened."

Shoma said nothing. He was, at that moment, wondering if he could ever get another word past the knife in his throat ever again.

Nathan still wasn't looking at him. "Things have been a little hard for me recently. But." He swallowed. "I had to tell you, because it wouldn't be fair if I kept this a secret forever. I've been thinking about us, recently, and...I don't know. I know I...I don't know how you feel. If you need more time to think... Shoma?" He was finally looking into the camera now, a pinched, unreadable expression on his face, but now Shoma was the one to look away.

What to say? Too many things. _I'm glad you told me_ would be a reasonable response, even though Shoma was not glad to know this at all, nowhere near glad that someone else had touched Nathan's body the way he had, even though he knew Nathan had had other partners before him. This was different. The pain he felt at this new knowledge was so severe that Shoma was frightened of it.

 _I forgive you_ was also a possibility. Nathan hadn't outright apologized, but Shoma had already forgiven him, even though part of him was angry at himself for arriving at that feeling so quickly. After all, he had never said to Nathan, _no, you can't sleep with anyone else but me_. They had never talked about it, this thing they had, the fleeting meetings at competitions and shows, the occasional calls, and suddenly Shoma felt the enormity of everything unsaid between them. He had never been good with words, and even worse with words in English. _I forgive you_ sounded false to his ears.

"Shoma? Shoma, please say something."

Everything Shoma wanted or needed to say was too big to get past the cage of knives in his throat, too big for a conversation over a video call. He didn't need more time to think, he needed Nathan here with him, now, needed to hear his voice unfiltered through a speaker, needed to see him and touch him and smell him. Only then could he make himself understood.

In the end, as the silence stretched on, the only thing that Shoma could make himself say was, "What was her name?"

Surprised, Nathan replied, "Serena."

Shoma nodded and ended the call.

\---

They had both medaled at Worlds the season before, so Shoma and Nathan did not meet on the 2019 Grand Prix. They both performed poorly, by their standards, but qualified for the Final nevertheless.

Nathan threw himself into training and homework, finally relenting to drop two classes. He'd wanted to give Shoma space to think, waited for Shoma to call back, but Shoma never did. He waited some more, then caved and called Shoma again, only to be greeted with a voicemail prompt.

Part of Nathan was angry. _It was one fucking time. I was stressed out and drunk, I made a mistake. I told him. It didn't mean anything. Not the way he..._ He couldn't finish the thought, and the other voice in his head was already rising up in argument, anyway.

_Idiot. You never actually apologized. You didn't tell him what you really meant. You fucked it all up like the fuckup you are and now he's never going to talk to you again._

He tried to act normally around his friends at the rink, still closer to them than anyone he'd met in college, but he caught Mariah looking at him weirdly a few times, and knew he needed to get his act together.

Or just talk to someone.

Because up until that point, he hadn't actually told anyone about his newfound bisexuality or his relationship with Shoma. At first it had been a warm little secret, hidden but nurtured inside him, something shared only between the two of them. He didn't want to talk about it, and it was fine. But now look where _not talking_ had gotten them.

Eventually, Adam cornered Nathan in the locker room during one of his (increasingly infrequent, due to his busy schedule) visits, or rather, he practically tackled Nathan from behind, slinging a friendly-but-choking arm around Nathan's neck.

"Agh! Jesus Christ, I didn't know you were here."

"Jesus Christ in the flesh, who else? Let's do lunch." It was not a request, and Nathan acquiesced, sighing but immensely glad to see Adam again.

They sat in a booth at a diner, swirling coffees, and Adam cut to the chase. "Ok, I'm not gonna lie, Mariah and Romain put me up to this. Well, not seeing you for lunch, per se, I was gonna do that anyway, what are friends for? But apparently you've been _acting weird_ , quote unquote, so they asked me to check up on you." Adam's tone softened. "I wish I'd been around more so I could see for myself." Nathan was 20 now, but Adam would always treat him like a little brother, and secretly, Nathan didn't mind.

"Oh, it's fine. You've got so much stuff going on with your work now. But I'm glad you're back." Nathan's smile was genuine, but he knew Adam wasn't going to let this bone go. And so, quietly and haltingly, Nathan told him the truth.

To Nathan's surprise, Adam looked rather emotional when he finished speaking.

"First of all, Nate...welcome to _the club_. My god, a new baby gay, I'm so, so proud."

Nathan rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked faintly upwards. Adam's tone was light, but the affection in his eyes was real, and for the first time since his realization, Nathan felt a little of what it might mean to be part of this community.

"And secondly..." Adam sighed. "I don't think he's going to call you back. You need to see him. Some things can't be said over the phone."

Nathan put his head in his hands. "Yeah. At least the Grand Prix Final is in less than two weeks. We'll see each other then."

"You know what he means to you."

Nathan nodded, face still hidden.

"Say it. Show it. If he feels like you do, he'll do the same."

\---

_December 2019_

Nathan and Shoma would not, in fact, compete against each other at the Grand Prix Final, because Shoma fell badly on a quad flip in practice and sprained his ankle a week before the event.

He was numb as Mihoko helped him off the ice, numb as the doctor scanned his ankle and gave the verdict, numb as he realized that he would have to withdraw from the Final. He'd stumbled his way through the Grand Prix Series with the burning, desperate knowledge that it was for Nathan. He had to see Nathan at the Final. It was their only chance. He'd stared at Nathan's name in his contact list, wondering if he should call, knowing that he couldn't, telling himself that it would be alright soon. Soon.

But now it was over. He couldn't go to the Final. He didn't even know if he could go to Worlds. He would call Nathan, and they would apologize to each other, maybe even salvage what was left of their relationship, but Shoma knew that wouldn't be enough.

He was furious at himself for not simply flying to California and seeing Nathan at school. He could have done it. He had his own money. But he was still living at his parents' home, and they didn't know about Nathan. There would have been questions, and Shoma didn't want to talk about it. This was something that was entirely his, his secret, his mistake. He couldn't drag anyone else into his problems. But now his foot was in a cast, and he couldn't go anywhere on his own.

Shoma drifted for a couple of days, before his manager finally saved him.

Oohama sat Shoma down in a secluded corner outside the Chukyo gym, after Shoma finished his repertoire of simple upper body exercises for the day.

"Shoma, this will probably sound abrupt and very forward, and I'm sorry. But I need to ask. Are you in a relationship with Nathan Chen?"

Shoma stared. Then he laughed, bitter and harsh. "Was I that obvious?"

"Not really. But I'm your manager. It's... I tend to notice these things." The words were matter-of-fact, but Oohama's tone was warm, and Shoma relaxed slightly. His manager had cared for him well in the last few years, and they had become friends, in a way. Oohama didn't mince words and he didn't treat Shoma like a child, not even when he was younger.

But Shoma knew the other reason why Oohama was asking him about Nathan. The unspoken _It's my job_ hung in the air between them. It was Oohama's job to maintain Shoma's image. It was his job to make sure his client didn't do something stupid. Well, too late for that.

"I hope you understand why I needed to ask you."

Shoma nodded and closed his eyes. _Because he's the Olympic silver medalist and I'm the Olympic bronze medalist. Because without Yuzuru, I'm the face of our sport in Japan, and he's the face of it in America. Because we are both more and less than who we are. Because people in the world are still dying for doing what we do together._

Shoma knew some people thought he was a clueless airhead. He wasn't, not in the ways that mattered, but he let them think it anyway. It kept him under the radar, gave him an advantage when he needed it.

It was out there now, his secret. Only one person knew, but that was enough. His secret was no longer his own. He oddly felt a wave of relief, and savored it before it passed, because he knew what Oohama would say next: _Here's how we're going to deal with it_ , or, worst case scenario, _You should stop seeing him_.

"Do you want to go to the Grand Prix Final?"

Shoma's eyes snapped open, and he fairly gawked. "What?"

"As a spectator. Do you want to go? I can arrange it, and come with you." Oohama gestured at Shoma's crutches. Again, the words were cool, but the tone warm and understanding.

Shoma's eyes burned. "Yes. Yes. Thank you."

\---

They flew to Shanghai. Shoma watched the competition with Oohama from the nosebleed seats, face mostly hidden under the large hood of his coat. He wished he could stand up and yell after Satoko's stunning short program; he was moved for Boyang when he claimed the gold in front of a home audience.

Nathan skated badly, barely enough for bronze, but just the sight of him, a mere dot on the white expanse of the ice, was enough to make Shoma's heartbeat erratic.

"I'll be in the bar downstairs," Oohama said quietly after they had returned to their hotel. "Call if you need me."

Shoma nodded. Oohama left. Shoma composed a text message, took a deep breath, and hit _Send_.

\---

"Nathan," Raf sighed after his free skate, "that was garbage."

Nathan grimaced. Raf's words were harsh, but that was how he always spoke, and Nathan knew what his coach really meant. He'd managed to land enough jumps to clamber onto the podium, but skated with all the emotion of a dead fish. The subdued applause, which had persisted throughout his entire Grand Prix season, attested to that.

"I'm getting back on track. I promise," he murmured as they went backstage. Raf looked at him with a mixture of kindness and frustration, but said nothing more.

It was true that lightening his course load had improved his training in the last couple of weeks, but Nathan had yet to return to top form, and Shoma's absence at the Final gnawed at him, a constant ache in his chest.

Shoma hadn't even called to let him know he'd sprained his ankle and withdrawn. Nathan had found out on Twitter.

He brushed off offers from his teammates to hang out that night, preferring to go back to his room and sleep. He was half-dozing when the first _ding_ of the text message alert rang from his phone. _Ding_ , again.

Nathan groaned and reached for his phone. Then he sat up abruptly, hardly able to understand what he was reading. Directions. An address.

\---

It was as though all their time apart melted away when Shoma opened the door for Nathan, right foot in a cast with a few toes peeking through. Shoma smiled, tentative but hopeful, and Nathan wanted to drop to his knees and kiss Shoma's feet.

They had never made love like this before, slowly, every movement a rediscovery, an affirmation. Afterwards, still shaking from the intensity of it, Shoma held Nathan's face between his hands and said, low but clear, "I'm yours. Are you mine?"

Nathan's voice broke. "Yes." He kissed Shoma lightly on the cheek, lingering where he had wiped away those grains of sand, when all of this had begun. "Yes." After each _yes_ , a kiss, trailing down Shoma's jaw and neck and collarbone, reaching at last his heart, where Nathan laid down his head. "Yes."

\---

The dam had broken, and they spent half the night talking, Nathan helping to fill in Shoma's vocabulary when prompted. They spoke about school, skating, other skaters, books and movies. The upcoming Olympics, their eventual retirement, what they would do after Shoma graduated from university - these topics they still skirted around, shyly, but with the knowledge that they _would_ talk about it. The urgency was gone; they felt they had all the time in the world, the entirety of the rest of their lives.

The other half of the night, they spent talking with their bodies instead. The result was that they were exhausted the next morning, but Nathan had finished competing and the gala wasn't until tomorrow. They were perfectly content to spend the whole day dozing in Shoma's bed. Shoma wondered idly if he had ever felt this happy and relaxed before in his life. If he had, the current situation had driven all memories from his mind.

But one still needed some fresh air even after - or especially after - hours of sex, and besides, they needed to look halfway presentable when room service arrived with food. Shoma put on pants and a shirt and stepped gingerly out onto the balcony, taking care not to put pressure on his injured ankle, while Nathan took a shower. He breathed in the sharp December air. It wasn't too cold, and the sun was bright in the sky.

Nathan joined him a minute later, wearing nothing but a towel around his shoulders, unzipped jeans hanging low around his hips. Shoma wrinkled his nose. "You'll catch a cold. Go inside."

Nathan gave him a smug grin and a quick peck on the lips. "Come in with me."

If either of them noticed a flash in the near distance, they would have chalked it up to a trick of sunlight.

\---

It was a curious thing, the story of the photo, and none of the major players in it would ever know the truth: The photo had been taken by accident.

Li Xiaomeng, small-time local freelance photographer, was working on a cityscape and architecture project. That afternoon, she was focusing on time-lapses of the Century Hotel, setting up her camera across the street to go off at regular intervals. It wasn't until she pored through the results later that night that she noticed the two men kissing on a balcony. One of them wasn't even wearing a shirt.

"Huh. That ones's no good."

Her younger sister, a figure skating enthusiast who had just returned from watching the Grand Prix Final, peered over her shoulder. Then she looked again, carefully, and whispered, "Holy shit."

\---

Four days later, after Nathan returned to the US and Shoma returned to Japan, Oohama tracked Shoma down at Chukyo again, and this time he looked grim.

Shoma stared quietly at the photo of Nathan kissing him on the balcony, plastered on the front pages of five separate tabloids. It wasn't so clear that they could be identified without a trace of doubt, but it wasn't so grainy, either. In any case, the damage had been done.

Oohama sighed. "I'm so sorry. I suggested you should go."

Shoma shook his head. "It's not your fault. We were careless. I should apologize to you. You helped me more than I can say." He swallowed, suddenly emotional. "I'm so thankful that you helped me go. It was important."

Oohama nodded, still pained. He reached out, as if to grasp Shoma's shoulder, but changed his mind at the last second. "We can issue a response, but...I wouldn't recommend it. It's out there now. We - you - will have to weather it through."

"Don't say anything. There's no point." Shoma sat, staring at the photo but no longer seeing it _. My parents and grandparents will see this. My brother will see it. The whole country. The whole world. Nathan -_

"Shoma. I'm being forward again. But I want you to know - I'm always here to help. And I never want you to feel ashamed."

Shoma smiled faintly. "I've never been ashamed of being with Nathan." _I don't feel ashamed to love someone_. "That wasn't why I never told anyone. I just wanted...to keep something for myself. But now I can't have that anymore. Maybe I was naive. It was never going to stay secret forever." _Not with us being who we are. But I didn't want it to turn out like this._

He felt small, detached from himself, reduced to screaming headlines and pixels on a page for the mass consumption of people who didn't know him and didn't care about him. But what had happened, had happened. And Shoma knew that there would be many necessary conversations in the near future.

\---

Nathan was silent after Shoma sent him a photo of the tabloids. Shoma watched him zoom in on his phone through the camera of Nathan's laptop.

"Well," Nathan said at last. "At least I look hot."

Shoma snorted. He was glad for the joke, though it did little to lighten the mood.

Nathan was serious again. "Have you...told your family?"

Shoma nodded. It had gone...well, better than he'd expected. None of his family members had seen the tabloids until he told them, which had helped. Itsuki had stuck up for him immediately. His mother and father had been quiet at first, but both hugged him tightly afterwards. He suspected they needed more time to process, but the initial reaction seemed promising. "It was...ok. I think. Don't know aunts and uncles yet. Grandparents."

Nathan looked relieved. "I'm glad. Look, this sucks, and I feel like it's partly my fault -"

"Not your fault. Not my fault."

"- but I'm here for you. If anything happens, tell me."

Shoma smiled, reassuring. "What about your family?"

"My family..." Nathan paused to think. "I never told them. But not because I was afraid of what they'd think. I think they'll be fine with it. I never told anyone, until Adam, because I wanted it to be something just between us."

Shoma understood. "Me too."

"So much for that." Nathan sighed. "I'll be fine. I'm more worried about you, because it's in Japan, and you're closer to it. If anything else happens -"

"Don't worry. I’ll tell you."

\---

Shoma was glad for his sprained ankle now, since it gave him an excuse to stay out of the public eye. He missed Nationals, but the injury was healing steadily, and his petition to be named to the World team was approved. He smiled wryly, wondering if he should tell Yuzuru about it. Yuzuru himself knew about him and Nathan now - well, most of his friends in skating did - and had been nothing but supportive. Every time he received a message from his friends, Shoma's heart felt a little fuller. He hadn't wanted the news to break like this, but the aftermath wasn't as bad as he'd feared - although he knew that Oohama was shielding him from the worst of the backlash.

With Machiko and Mihoko, he'd barely had to say anything before they hugged him. "We know, Shoma. We've known for a long time. We're so happy for you." Machiko pinched his cheek, and Mihoko beamed more than his own mother had when he'd told her the truth. To his embarrassment, he'd started crying - they'd seen him cry so many times before, but it was always related to skating, not anything else in his life. The feeling of gratitude overwhelmed him and he couldn't hold back the tears. They held him tightly, their unspoken love and support coursing through him as he brought his breathing back under control.

The days passed, and Shoma's world changed completely, but in many ways it stayed the same. Most of all, he itched to be back on the ice, the place where he truly belonged.

\---

_March 2020_

Nathan won his second World title, redeeming himself from a lackluster Grand Prix season, but everyone agreed that Shoma had the free skate of the night. The jumps weren't quite there, landings even shakier than usual, but he had never before skated with so much power and ease. Nathan watched from the sidelines the whole time, mesmerized. As Shoma knelt on the ice, staring into the sky while the audience erupted, Nathan couldn't name the yearning that gripped him.

When Shoma's name was called at the medal ceremony and he approached Nathan, smile brilliant as the sun, Nathan didn't care about anything else. He pulled Shoma onto the top step of the podium with him and hugged him tight for two seconds, three, four. The audience screamed in shock and delight, camera shutters went off like thunderheads. Nathan barely heard them. Let them stare. He wanted this moment to last forever. Nothing else mattered.

They were both grinning like giddy children when Shoma finally stepped onto the bronze medal podium; Boyang was laughing at them on Nathan's other side. The medals were awarded, the anthem played. In that moment, everything felt _right_.

\---

"I'm going to come out. Officially, to the media."

They were lying in bed after the banquet, Shoma absent-mindedly twirling a finger around Nathan's curls. His hair was getting long again, but Shoma liked it long. His fingers stopped moving for a moment after Nathan spoke, but soon started again.

Nathan continued. "I won't mention you by name, if you don't want me to. But...I've been thinking about it, since December. I've talked with my family, and I've talked with Adam, and I know it's what I want to do. I really admired Adam for coming out, back then. You could see how happy and confident he was once he owned it. And the number of people who were thankful to him for that. That's the kind of person I want to be."

Shoma nodded. _We are more than just ourselves._ He thought about how things were different in Japan and how they were similar, and how much he wanted to kiss Nathan in the daylight with not a single care in the world. Perhaps, one day, he would also...

Shoma looked Nathan in the eyes and smiled. "Do what you need to do. I'm proud of you." Then, softly, but each word carrying all the more weight because of it, "I love you."

\---

Nathan wasn't the type to cry. He couldn't even remember the last time he had done so. He hadn't cried when he broke his hip, hadn't cried when his future looked dead in every direction. But looking into Shoma's warm, dark eyes with those impossibly long lashes, hearing those words for the first time - which he already knew, had always known, but _hearing_ them - he let go.

Shoma held him close, long after Nathan's soundless sobs had given way to the steady cadence of sleep.


End file.
